Not Yours
by JacAvoy85
Summary: This is me filling my own prompt, I suppose, in which Shaw kidnaps Charles: an omega who is not his (we can all guess whose omega he is) right before Charles goes into heat. Charles is forced to mate with Shaw, or die (and trust Charles, death was starting to look like the better choice). Cue angry, angry, pissed off Alpha and bloodshed. Please see warnings on the inside!


**Warnings: Rape, graphic violence, **_**death**_**. **

"My, my, your temperature is 103, and rising." Shaw glanced down at the omega, and cocked his head to the side. "What's next? Nauseousness? Hallucinations?" A wicked smile. "Delirium, exhaustion, and then— my personal favorite— _death_." He reached down and ran his hand across the bound man's flushed face. "I'll bet mating with me is starting to sound better and better by the minute."

Charles whipped his face to the side, as much as he could in his current, tied up position: hands bound above his head with thick rope, and tried to get out of Shaw's touch. "Fuck you," he spat at the other man. "I will _never_ mate with you."

An eerie chuckle, "I beg to differ." Shaw then ran his hand down Charles' chest. "You must be hot, what with this sweater of yours." Evil eyes flashed up to blue. "Shall I remove it for you; help you cool down?"

"He'll kill you, when he gets here."

This made Shaw smile, the cruel fucker that he was. "Of course he will." His hand found the omega's cock (Charles' eyes screwed shut, a disgusted shudder rippled through his body). "First," Shaw said as he palmed Charles through his pants, ignoring (probably enjoying) the sickened look on his face, "he'd have to find us, and that'll never happen. He'll never find us down here." Another sadistic smile. "I hid us too well, my lovely."

Charles tried desperately to thrash out of the older man's touch, but it was all in vain. All his efforts got him was overheated (more so than he already was) and exhausted.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take this off for you?" Shaw curled his hand around Charles' shirt, tugging slightly.

"Fuck off."

Shaw raised an eyebrow. "Suit yourself." He turned to leave, but Charles' voice caught him.

"I'd kill you myself," he managed to get out between strained, harsh breaths, "if not for that helmet of yours," a pause; a ragged breath. "Coward."

Back still to the omega in heat, Shaw just grinned, knowing. "I'll have to remember that-" he turned just his face back to look at his prey, "when I'm mating you."

The door closed.

…

The next time the door opened, probably hours later, Charles saw a familiar face—a face that made his heart rate double and relief flood his veins. _Help me_. He tried to sit up.

"Erik…?"

But the man's mind was poison.

Charles' head hit the bed again. "No," he whispered.

That same eerie chuckle filled the room, followed by, "We're getting closer."

Charles turned his head to the side and threw up, just barely making it over the side of the bed.

And then…

Darkness.

…

"Water." It was just a strangled noise. Charles opened his eyes, his vision still blurry and coming to him slowly. "I need water."

It took him a second to register the wetness, in two spots.

One on his chin and neck, where Shaw just dumped a cup of water on him—Charles was able to get at least _some_ of it in his mouth—and the other…

The other was between his legs, meaning that-

_No_.

As if Shaw was the telepath here, the man smiled, looking down at Charles' lower body. "My, my, Charles," he said, ever so mockingly, "your pants are ruined—soaked completely. You are so ready to be mated with." He looked up at the omega, still with that damned smile on his face. "Shall I remove them for you?"

"No," Charles got out, weakly, turning his head to the side. Another wave of nauseousness hit him.

"But you must feel somewhat better, seeing how I removed that sweater of yours, no?" Shaw asked, running a hand down one of Charles' legs.

Charles registered this now, looking down best he could. That bastard, he did remove his sweater—obviously when he was passed out; probably just cut it right off him— leaving Charles in his undershirt. His head thumped back on the dull mattress. Tears prickled behind his eyelids.

_Erik._

The chuckle was back, along with the shiver that ran up Charles' spine. "I'll just slip these off for you."

…

"Erik…Erik."

The sound of steel scraping against concrete filled the room. Charles turned his head, weakly.

"Erik…"

A chuckle, "How are you feeling?"

Charles swallowed, thick, and took in a ragged breath. "Erik…" a shudder, "I-I need you."

Silence. The omega could feel the other man watching him.

"Mate me… I-I need to be mated…now." _Erik_.

Footsteps.

"I knew you'd finally see things my way."

A cold hand ran down Charles' body, the shiver followed. Instinctively though, the omega leaned in to the touch: soaking it up, needing it, _thriving_ on it.

It was his lifeline.

"Mate me." It was a strained whisper, a plea.

A tut, "And what do we say?" The hand stopped on Charles' thigh, squeezing.

A pause, a harsh breath, and then:

"Bloody mate with me already, you _bastard_," Charles snarled at the man, his animal instincts taking over. Raging inside him like a beast trying to get free. "Mount me before I _die_," a ragged breath. "Fucking_ fuck_ me already." _Erik_.

A chuckle, and then silence.

"That's more like it, my lovely," a pause, voice lower now. "Who's your Alpha now?"

Charles took in a shuddering, broken breath.

"Erik."

He registered the slap to his face, his right ear ringing, and then blissful darkness; an empty void he called home.

…

He came to, slowly, and realized a few things:

Shaw fucked, probably how he killed: brutal, harsh, mechanical, full of _hate_. It was the absolute relief that Charles' body craved (needed), and at the same time, utter poison.

He also realized the way that Shaw was mating him: he had both of Charles' legs over his shoulders, fucking into the omega ruthlessly. And of course he would choose this way; forcing Charles look at him. The man couldn't even mount him the right way, the sick fuck.

Charles turned his face to the side, tears spilling down his cheeks. _Erik_. He had a gut wrenching feeling he wasn't the first omega that Shaw fucked— _mated with_— that wasn't his. The twisted _fuck_. He probably gets off on that alone.

A strong hand forced Charles' face back up— fingers digging into jaw— and forced him to look back at his rapist. Look him in the cold, empty eyes.

"Eyes on me, Charles," the man got out between harsh breaths.

It hurt. It hurt so bad, and yet felt so _good_. He needed this. Charles _needed_ this. Would die without it.

Perhaps… death would be better.

"You're a monster," Charles got out, his chest heaving.

Shaw never stopped fucking, but he did laugh, hollow and cold, much like his heart. "Yet you got so wet for me, so wet that all I had to do was slip my cock into that slippery little hole of yours. Omega slut." He snapped his hips harder. "You're just a bitch in heat."

A swallow, throat dry, voice barely audible, "…'s coming."

The older man glanced up at Charles' flushed face, looking at the omega with hate and vileness. "What?" he panted, still thrusting.

Charles swallowed again, took in a harsh breath, and then:

"He's coming."

…

Erik ripped the door off its hinges, smashing it into nothingness, and slammed it into the wall.

He didn't even wait, didn't even give Shaw the chance to say anything; say some witty comment, some patronizing greeting.

Just death.

He sliced a steel pole through the man's chest, killing him where he was, over his—_Erik's_—omega.

In a flash Erik was by his omega's side, shoving Shaw's still impaled corpse off him and slashing the rope that held Charles' hands up.

"Charles," he choked out, relief trembling through his body.

Looking up at the man he could hardly see—so many tears— Charles coughed, dry heaved really. "Erik?" His mind; his mind was not poison: it was real._ Erik_.

_Yes._ "I'm here now." He held his omega closer, almost too close. He knew he must be hurting him, but he didn't care, he couldn't let go now.

"Erik," Charles tried again- his voice sounding so very weak: fragile, broken. "I-I-need you to…" he swallowed, pained. "Finish the job."

The Alpha paled.

No.

Slowly, he pulled Charles back, searching his eyes.

"Please, Erik," another weak cough. "He didn't—I need you…I need you to mate me."

And Erik knew this was serious. Dire. He knew the symptoms; knew what happened to unmated omegas once in heat.

It made him seethe.

Even in death, Shaw got the last laugh.

And he had to do it, had to do it for his omega. _For Charles_. He had to fuck Charles, mate with him, not but minutes after Shaw had his dirty cock inside him.

Could he really do it? His omega still reeked of the other Alpha.

"Erik," Charles pleaded, eyes searing hot with want. "Please." His ass was already leaking again, probably never stopped really, filling the air—the Alpha's nose—with that seductive scent. That aroma that drives any Alpha within a two mile radius mad with want. _Mate. Breed. Reproduce_.

Claim.

A strangled sound, possibly a choked back sob, because: _fuck_. "Charles," the Alpha replied.

And that was it. That was all he had.

No. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. For Charles. For his omega.

Erik looked down at Shaw's unmoving body, for motivation, and then back to his mate.

But Charles must have taken this lapse in time as Erik debating whether or not he could do this, so he spat at him, animalistic instincts taking over again, "If you're not going to do it then find an Alpha who _will_. Go get someone who will fucking mate me already, before I die!"

Rage, followed by a snarl. "No," Erik growled, all heat and possessiveness. "I'll do it."

He'll be damned if he ever lets another Alpha near his omega again.

Erik grabbed Charles by his thighs, and yanked him down the bed, forcing him closer. "How do you want to do this?" he asked, still breathing ragged from the rage, and also desire.

"Just…I don't _care_, just fucking mount me already." Charles twisted on the bed, moaning, his body sweaty and skin flushed with heat. Erik tried not to think too hard to why that was.

It didn't work.

A low growl, "Flip over then, if you want me to mount you properly."

In an instant Charles was on his stomach, no, make that his knees; baring his ass— slick and wet (hole still red. _Damn it_)— to his Alpha. He looked back with lust drunk eyes and said, "Please." It was just a broken sound, a plea really.

Erik took in a deep inhale, placed both hands—strong and firm—on Charles' hips, and brought him closer. A heavy swallow. "Face the other way, Charles, please."

He knew what he needed to do, he just wasn't sure if he could do it while his omega—his mate—was looking at him like _that_. And it tore him to pieces, knowing that's probably how he was looking at Shaw, mere minutes ago, as the other Alpha fucked him, mated him, _bred_-

Erik drove another steel beam through the dead man's body, through his skull this time, enjoying the sickening crunch of bone.

Charles, bringing Erik back to, moaned— brokenly so— and then turned to face the other way, kneeing his legs further apart, knowing that Erik would be able to slip in easier. Slip in that tight, slick hole.

"Mate me," he breathed, forehead sweaty as it pressed into the bed.

Erik's breath hitched. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand down his face. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

He glanced down at Shaw's lifeless body, again. And he probably shouldn't enjoy that sight so much, but fuck it, he did.

Erik took in a harsh breath.

He'll finish what Shaw never could, what he was never going to.

Charles looked back at him, brunet hair falling over his eyes. "I'm ready."

Yeah, Erik knew. He swiped a finger: thumb, against Charles' still wet and slick hole, causing the muscle to pucker.

"Please Erik," the man in heat begged.

God damnit. Erik sucked in a breath, then unzipped his pants— his cock straining to get free— and took it in his hand. And he couldn't help it; the smell of Charles in heat, his omega in heat, put his hormones in overdrive. The need to fuck—_mate_—Charles, was overwhelming.

"Mate me," Charles said, as if Erik needed any reminding.

Another low growl. _Shut up, Charles_, he wanted to say, but would never. He held his heavy cock in his hand, guiding it to his omega's used hole.

A pause, and then:

Erik plunged in, wetness and tight heat (familiar, so fucking familiar) surrounding his cock.

"Oh my _god_," Charles moaned out, needy and desperate. He buried his face in the mattress. "Erik," he gasped. And it helped hearing his name, knowing that Charles knew just who was fucking—_breeding_—him. He sent a stinging slap to the omega's ass.

"Say my name again," the Alpha demanded.

"Erik," Charles got out, lifting his face up and off the bed just enough to be heard.

Then the thrusting began.

Erik snapped his hips harder, almost brutal—but never like Shaw—and gripped Charles' hips, drawing the smaller man closer back with every powerful thrust.

This— _this—_ is how you mount an omega in heat.

"Fuck- Erik- _yes_," Charles cried out brokenly, relief flooding his body, taking over his every being.

Erik placed his hand on the back of Charles' head, pressing the younger man back down into the used, cum stained mattress, fucking him harder. "Getting close," he huffed.

"Faster," Charles replied, gasping in spurts. "I need you to fuck me faster." A harsh breath. "Fucking mate me, Erik."

Damn it. "I _am_, Charles," Erik snarled at him, gripping the omega's hips more, probably leaving bruises in the form of fingerprints (bigger than Shaw's at least). He snapped his hips into Charles' ass, fucking his cock in as deep as it would go and hitting that sweet spot that drove his omega insane with lust. And he came; Charles came, quite explosively with a loud moan, coating the bed sheets with his seed. Erik followed not long after; filling his omega to the brim, his hot come spurting deep inside.

Where it belonged.

They could both feel the swelling of Erik's cock, his member settling in for the night, in Charles', _his_ omega's, tight wet heat.

"Charles," Erik said as he covered the smaller man's body, breathing against his neck. A kiss was placed: messy, but no less passionate. Charles collapsed completely into the mattress, his breath heavy and strained._ Satisfied_.

For now.

Nothing but the sound of heavy breathing could be heard, echoing off the bare walls. Erik sunk his teeth into Charles' neck, causing a low piercing cry to escape his omega as the knotting began. His hands found soft skin: Charles' shoulders, and pressed down.

"Mine," Erik growled into Charles' neck, marking him.

"Yes," Charles replied, eyes closed, voice catching. Only Erik's. Only Erik's ever. Forever and ever.

Until the end.

END


End file.
